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Inspired byBaroque. \boxed{ G(x,t)= \underbrace{\nabla C(x,t)}_{\text{cracks}} + \underbrace{R(x,t)}_{\text{roots}} \quad\Longrightarrow\quad S(x,t)=S_0+\alpha\,\tanh\!\left(\frac{x}{L}\right) \quad\text{with}\quad \frac{\partial S}{\partial t}>0 }no text.no diagrams. where G is the awakening ground, C represents expanding cracks, R the spreading roots, and S the soil stretching outward like a slowly awakening giant.A drawing is simply a line going for a walk. Paul Klee.
Inspired by https://deepdreamgenerator.com/ddream/w1nsr5in5l4
Is It Autumn Already?
I lay down for a minute and a tree began growing through my chest.
It was a quiet tree. It had the manners of someone visiting a hospital.
By the time I noticed it, the roots had reached several houses where I used to live. One root was underneath my childhood bed. Another had found a woman who once loved me and was standing outside her kitchen, trying to remember what to say.
“Is it autumn already?” I asked.
A black bird landed on a branch above my mouth.
“I’m only responsible for the afternoons,” it said.
The sun had turned orange. Somebody had drawn a blue curtain halfway across it, although there was nobody asleep in the sun that I knew of.
On my left, summer continued in a small turquoise room. There were two flowers and a moon that had forgotten to go home. I could almost hear somebody washing a cup.
On my right, a town was getting ready for winter. Its windows were so small that loneliness had to enter sideways.
I wanted to get up, but the tree had made arrangements.
There were birds expected.
There was a leaf that had travelled a long way to fall from me.
I closed my eyes. Underneath the earth, the roots kept searching through things I had put away without labels.
They found a red door.
They found the sound of my mother moving around the house before I woke up.
They found an afternoon I had wasted forty years ago. It was still there, warm and perfectly usable.
I would have liked to waste it again.
The black bird leaned forward.
“You’re changing colour,” it said.
I looked at my hands. They were full of little roads leading to places that no longer needed me.
“Does it hurt?”
“Only when somebody calls it beautiful.”
A leaf came loose above my face. For a moment it rested on my lips, and I breathed carefully so it could finish being a leaf.
Then the wind took it.
I stayed where I was until the lights came on in the small town.
